Orphium
Prologue: Keys, doors, and knockers.
He was typing again. Fingers smashing lettered plastic endlessly, clacking and clicking and tapping. White text on a black screen. A seemingly nonsensical babble of letters, numbers and phrases. But it all made sense. At least to him, and he planned on keeping it that way. He was building a key. Half of a key. The other half would be built later. The key was important. More important than any key he had ever built before. This key would unlock the floodgates.
A knock at the door. He keeps typing. The key would be done soon, and he didn't have time to waste on people who knocked on doors. If they wanted to see him, they would enter. His door, unlike others, was unlocked. He had nothing to fear. The handgun on the desk soothed any anxiety of unwelcome guests. Another knock. He frowned. This knocker was unusually persistant. The clatter of keystrokes ceased, and he stood. He took three steps toward the door, then stopped and returned to his desk to fetch his weapon. You could never be too careful, especially with knockers. He shuffled quietly to the door and opened it, keeping the gun by his side.
A teenager with a pizza box held at shoulder hieght stood at the threshold. Eyed the gun uneasily. Asked where Apartment 3-F was. The gun gestured down the hall and the door slammed closed. Stupid knockers. they should know better to interrupt busy people. The gun was placed back on the desk, and the clatter of keystrokes continued once more. An hour later, the last key was pressed, and high overhead, a small red light blinked on.